Tiny House
by HVK
Summary: Set in my Tiny Finn AU with the Stinky Foot; Marceline and her tiny friend Finn are staying in a cave and she tries to build him a house, because she just cares about him that much. Unfortunately, she's not very good at it. Finnceline, of course!


Me and the Stinky Foot are working on a series for an AU based on my original Tiny Finn concept; in this AU, Finn is still tiny, Marceline is closer to his age, and both of them are nomads in a setting closer to Fallout than the D&D-flavor of Ooo! I'm gonna start posting my one-shots for this AU here; check out Stinky Foot's deviant art page or Tumblr for the comics she's made for it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Adventure Time or make profit from it.

* * *

"Come on."

A sawing noise.

"Okay, good, think I got it, just a little more."

The faint noises of sawdust falling to the floor, barely noticeable over the sound of water dripping further on in the cave.

"Hah, this is easier than Bonnibel said it would be!" Words said with a grin, and sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Almost got it, almost done-"

A slip, wrist banging against the wood. "Ow!" Metal slipped, and bit too deeply into wood. "What… no! No, no-"

That very distinct '_crack' _of wood breaking, tumbling into piece, and followed shortly by a twanging squeal of metal on rock.

"OH COME ON!" Marceline screamed. She snorted and puffed and growled, and kicked the crude worktable aside, and it slid across the ground with incredible force for something kicked away by a thirteen-year-old kid (going on fourteen sometime soon) and hit a wall, leaving the two halves of wood lying on the ground behind it. She kicked them aside too, snarling and growling some more, shaking with rage right there, her overall strap that was broken flapping uselessly off his shoulder before she fell flat on her backside and slammed her fists into the ground so hard that they left thick and heavy dents in the solid rock but she didn't even feel it-

Marceline screamed again in pure frustration, punching again and again until the cave started to shake a bit and her roars echoed, the furious noises of a little monster that was going to grow into a much bigger monster (but not quite there yet).

The echoes faded, and she stopped, breathing heavily (though she really didn't need to breathe at all) and her teeth snapping together. "Stupid wood," She muttered, tucking in her legs and putting her hands over her knees. "Stupid tools. Stupid Bonnie. Stupid Finn!" She grimaced heavily at that last one, wishing like crazy she hadn't just said _that-_

Marceline looked around, the frayed edges of her short hair dusting the back of her neck. It was not a large cave, and there was space for her and Finn but not much else, but on the other hand it could keep things away, she and him could hide in her and protect themselves from the horrible things outside (because nothing out there was as scary as she was, Finn liked to tell her, lying between her thumb and fingers and hugging her hand until it almost hurt), and it was good enough until they had to leave and find a nicer shelter.

Sometimes Marceline wished she could find a nice tree house for her and Finn to live in. She sniffled a little, shoulders hunching and red fury slouching around inside her brain, just hurting for no reason.

There was a big pile of stuff Marceline had been dragging here during the times when she and Finn went sneaking out when it was dark or so cloudy the sun couldn't shine to hurt her; old tires, big books, a holotape or two, junk they'd pulled out of a landfill and didn't want to give to Bonnibel for whatever reason, and sometimes Marceline worried about what they were going to do when they had to leave this cave (they never could stay in a place for long, that was just how things were) and she _really _didn't want to leave this stuff behind…

Marceline sniffled again; she was only thirteen, and rather scrawny for her age, and hunched over like she was and crying she looked like a broken toy left to rust in the rain. She felt like it too, and it hurt thinking about how many times they had to leave their homes and stuff behind, but it was just things they had to do.

But that made her think of Finn, and she straightened her spine and set her jaw. She mumbled little nonsense words she hoped sounded like mean curses, hoping she hadn't woken Finn up. She thought of being brave and tough and smart, and set herself on her hands and knees to shuffle her way over to the big pile, trying not to make any more noise than she already had.

She turned from it, and right next to it was a crude shelter, a little umbrella set over a big thick sleeping bag all colored gray (it had been red, a long time ago, but Marceline had gotten hungry), and nestled into it was a smaller one she'd made herself by stitching together chunks of fluffy blankets together until she had something warm and soft that she could put her whole hand in.

Marceline leaned it, forcing herself not to breath or be loud. In this little glove-sized sleeping bag, a tiny boy a year or two younger than her (she wasn't sure how old he was, really) yawned. A cute plump face, no bigger than a fingernail (she'd checked too, when she was teaching him to dance and pushing him around with her fingers) and framed with crazy-long blonde hair so bright and lovely he looked like he had a little halo – and wasn't he just her little angel-boy – tilted around, mouth slightly open and breathing audibly.

He turned, bunching up the sleeping sack, and a round shoulder slid right out of the little rags she could find for him to wear from old toys. He nestled in, still asleep, and shifted around uncomfortably. Marceline dared to reach out, her fingers brushing against his front and bigger then all of him; her hard little joints brushed against the fabric, and she felt the warmth of him almost like a shock. Finn mumbled something, unconsciously leaning into her hands.

Marceline mumbled something under her breath, she didn't know what she said but it sounded cute and nice, and that was just what Finn deserved. She smiled more nicely than she _ever _did for anyone ever (except maybe Simon, or Bonnibel when she wasn't being _totally _annoying, just kinda-sorta annoying and needing a good punch in the shoulder) and laid her thumb against the side of his head. His ear was a tiny bump to her, his hair soft and fuzzy like fur on itty-bitty things that were fun to cuddle, and she could _feel _him breathing a bit faster, sighing in some dream and smiling so happily she almost felt like a stupid girl from a stupid story with stupid romance-

Marceline tried not to barf, she just felt _stupid_. Finn, her tiny little friend, nuzzled into her hand. She made a small squeak and withdrew her hand like she'd been shocked. Finn whimpered and whined, but stayed asleep. Marceline stared at him for a moment before she dared to stand up, feeling really confused and not sure what she wanted.

She stood up, and old scars and bruises twinged. She winced, that bear from last night had done a real number on her when it tried to take the cave from them; she punched it so hard it had practically flown right out, but then Finn had hit it so hard in the nose she was sure it must have hurt its brain. A shame it had ran off, she wanted to kill it; there was a lot of meat on a bear, and she thought Finn would look super-cute in a little hat made from bear-fur…

Quietly, Marceline stalked away, feeling gangly and stupid and weirdly light in the head.

Eventually, jittery and nervous, she came back to a little pet project she'd started since Finn had collapsed into sleep earlier that sunset (Finn having adjusted himself to her schedule a long time ago).

Marceline looked down at the assembled bits of wood, the various tools around her, and finally glanced back at the bits of wood she hadn't sawn right earlier.

She made an irritated growl, and her teeth rasping in her head, stomped over to get them.

* * *

A few hours later, his dreams filled with a lot of thunderous rumbling and pounding like the mountains were falling down around him, Finn yawned and woke up, still a bit groggy and tired.

He shrugged his way out of the sleeping sack Marceline had made for him (and he never wanted to tell her that sometimes it was a bit itchy when the weather was warm because he just _never ever _wanted to make Marceline sad or feel bad like everyone else did, he _never _could do that) and fell into the folds of her sleeping bag, rising up like the biggest and softest landscape in the history of all the things.

It was a long and annoying few minutes, stumbling out of those folds and climbing over them (and Bonnie had told him about deserts and dunes, and Finn had never seen one but he really wanted to, and thought that maybe dunes would be like the folds on Marcy's bag but a lot more itchy and probably not smelling as good as Marcy-stuff did). It woke him up plenty, though, and by the time he was free of it and on the cold rock of the cave-floor, he was feeling plenty awake.

There had been a great banging noise drew his attention, like things being hammered together, and it had stopped not too long ago; accustomed to it in his sleep, it's sudden absence had likely woken him up. Finn yawned again, shaking his hair out of his eyes and feeling it slap slightly on his back, and went around to look for Marceline. "Marcy!" He cried out. "Marcy, where are you?!"

"Over here!" Her voice said, like the most perfect musical sentinel, and he immediately scurried off after it. He bounced around rocks and big rocky things poking up from the ground (Bonnie had told him about the difference between stalagmites and stalactites but he couldn't remember them right now), and a rock that might had stubbed someone's toe was like a hill to him, and despite his size he pushed them aside with all the strength of a human-sized boy (but a strength considerably more narrowed) and followed.

He hopped and skipped, a chubby mini-boy dressed in rags a little too big from him, scavenged from toys or so Marcy had told him (and she just loved making fun of him because they came from _girl toys _and she laughed so hard when Finn went red and yelled and whined and tried to rip the clothes off before stopping because _Marceline was a girl and you didn't go naked in front of girls)_, and his hair fluttered behind him.

Soon, though, he saw her looming up high, a beauteous giant girl in his perspective, a grey-blue titan his age, and he immediately ran to her. The floor rumbled and shook as she took a careful step sideways, ponderously turning his way as he cried out, "Marcy, found you!"

Callused toes dug deeply, her feet steadying her as she looked over at him and sat down suddenly, and the mini-quake knocked Finn off his feet. He looked up, aware that it was still moonlight so he hadn't missed anything fun, and stopped as the cave-ceiling was blotted out by blue-grey skin overhead, a huge and familiar shape coming overhead, a massive palm and fingers reaching for him.

Finn obediently let Marceline grab him, her palm gently docking into him and fingers curling around him; he squeaked as they held tightly (but not bad-tight, this just felt kind of nice), holding him firm and safe. The air changed, and he was rising up, up…

Moonlight came again. Marceline held him on her palm, opening her fingers, and her suddenly shy face was in front of him like the prettiest moon ever. "Hey, dork-face," Marceline said. She looked aside after a moment, and her cheeks brightened up red for some reason. "Uh… hey."

"Hi, Marcy," Finn said. He sat down on her wrist and laid down; her hand was as familiar territory as anything in the world, more even, though maybe not as much as the pocket on the front of her overalls (where he _always _got to stay when she was going outside, she never ever wanted him out of her sight for even a second, it was _dangerous _for little guys like him to be alone). "Did you hear a bunch of noise before? I think it woke me up a bit."

Marceline flushed. "…Yelling noise or work noise?"

"I dunno. Second, I guess."

She seemed pleased. "Hee. Good!"

Suddenly Finn was turning, the world moving around him. The ground was coming close –and something weird-looking ahead – and Marceline gently tipped him on the ground. "Check it out!" She said.

Finn blinked. In front of him was what looked like an ugly dollhouse, bits of firewood sawn up and nailed together into a bunch of little rooms. There was a door, some windows, little holes to go to one room or the other, and he thought he saw a big chunk of wood with a bit of space in it to put his sleeping sack.

He tilted his head. "What is it, Marcy?"

She snorted, like he was the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things. (She made that noise a lot.) "It's a house, dork! For itty-bitty boys like you!"

"…Oh!" Finn nodded importantly, like he knew it all along and had just been playing along with Marceline. He'd found it a pretty useful attitude to take most of the time. "That's… that's cool, Marceline. Where'd you find it?"

"I didn't." She stood up, tall and proud and happy, and Finn noticed the sawdust, and the bruises on her fingers (where hammer had hit the wrong thing instead of nails), and how tired and stressed she looked, but now she was grinning down at Finn and hopping up a little, like she was when she had just finished a song and needed to find a good guitar somewhere to sing it for him. "I made it myself!"

Finn gaped. "You _made _it? Like… putting it together and junk?"

Marceline did an arm pump. "Heck yeah!"

He blinked. "…For _me?_"

"Yeah, mang!" Marceline suddenly looked bashful. "Do you… uh, psh, not a big deal, y'know, don't care if you like it or not, but I saw a bird and he thought it was cool and wanted to know if you… uh, you know, _liked _it?"

She stood back a little bit, hands clasping behind her back and her whole skinny body swaying like a tree in a breeze. She was looking down at her feet, now mumbling things under her breath.

Finn looked up at Marceline, then around at the little house. The wood was blocky and ugly, poking out at weird places; there were holes everywhere, she just couldn't patch them up right, and nails stood up at odd directions everywhere (but not so that it could hurt him, she'd bent out the sharp bits and everything). It sagged at the roof, and though the whole thing was relatively stable it was falling in at places already.

Finn turned to Marceline, all of that briefly passing through his head. He made a heroic pose and said, "I _love _it!"

Marceline put her hands to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle an excited giggle.


End file.
